Next poem: For the beautiful woman who cooked gingerbread for me

More Poems  |  (He'd love to hear from you!)
Copyright Paul Cantrell
Using this poem on your site? Please link back!


Rolling over waves of soil
and stone and leaves, wind and rain,
reflecting off the curling edges
of heat and clouds, the same air
it tore like cloth now drowns it
oceanically outward
until the flash of revelation conceived
in the embrace of heaven and earth
has become a low and gentle plea
against the ravages of distance.